


the night the sky was on fire

by bunnybabi12



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Father-Daughter Relationship, Gen, One Shot, even though the father is just possessing the daughter's actual father
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-21
Updated: 2014-03-21
Packaged: 2018-01-16 11:28:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1345810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bunnybabi12/pseuds/bunnybabi12
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What the hell happened to you?” She questions, helping him from the brush. He’s weak compared to her young strength, so much older, so much wearier. With the crushing guilt of a falling sky on his shoulders.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the night the sky was on fire

      The sky’s a mess of stars. Blinding, fast, falling. They’re falling. Hundreds of them. Thousands of them. Claire feels the wind blowing against her, pushing her back toward the little cottage she’s calling ‘home’ for now. She should go inside. The feeling sits in her bones, urging her back but she can’t stop watching. There are so many of them. They blur together after a time and it’s only when she blinks to focus her vision again that she realizes that she was staring so long her eyes watered.

      She’s not crying. There’s nothing to cry about. They’re just stars. They have nothing to do with her. But there’s a pull. It’s the same pull that makes her stand there, watching when her head keeps telling her to go inside. When her body keeps telling her legs to move but they don’t and she’s rooted to the spot. The pull tells her that she needs to see this, that she needs to know what’s happening.

      Are they really stars?

      She doesn’t have the time to ponder on that. There’s rustling in the foliage nearby and her attention snaps back into focus, blue eyes landing on the moving greenery. She’s already standing defensive, hand on the angel blade tucked into her jacket when she sees the khaki color of the familiar overcoat coming through. The dark hair that she didn’t inherit. The blue eyes that she did.

      Her father’s face masking a heavenly being.

      He stumbles toward her, arms outstretched and she moves for the first time since her mind has been screaming out for her to go inside. But she moves toward him, catching him with strong hand when he stumbles, keeping him upright.

      “What the hell happened to you?” She questions, helping him from the brush. He’s weak compared to her young strength, so much older, so much wearier. With the crushing guilt of a falling sky on his shoulders.

      “Metatron…” He manages to rasp before nearly falling again. She loops his arm over her shoulders and leads him as close to the house as she can before his feet give out on him. She nearly falls under his limp weight. She never knew how much her father weighed before he had angel in him, perhaps he was a hell of a lot lighter.

      She doesn’t let him fall on his face, she eases him down, concern etched into her features. Looking up at her, Castiel feels a small sense of relief. She’s changed. Since he first met her after so much time, all that anger she harbored, all that hatred, it doesn’t define her anymore. It’s not who she is. Not anymore.

      “Claire…”

      “Castiel,” She looks up at the bright night sky, part of her knowing that whatever’s happening has something to do with why he’s like this. Why he’s so weak. Why he’s come to her.

      “What’s happening?”

      “They’re falling… The angels are falling.”

      She understands suddenly. Why her mind and body were screaming but she wasn’t moving. Why she just stood watching while the sky started falling instead of running for cover.

      The stars were angels.

      She stares up at the sky again, her grip on him tightening absently. Within the burning fire, she thinks, if she stares long enough, she can see them. But her eyes blur again and she blinks it away, looking down at Castiel to find him staring up at her.

      “You have to run.”

      “What?”

      “They… They will need vessels Claire. You are a vessel.”  
Her eyes widen in horror and she shakes her head. “No, I’m your vessel. Your back up vessel. I c—“

      “You can. And they will attempt to make you if they find you. You must run.”

      Her mouth gapes in shock. She can’t think of anything to say. The look on his face is desperate as he sits up, grappling for strength. He repeats his words, looking her dead in the eyes, his hands on her shoulders.

      “You. Must. Run.”

      “But—“

_“Now.”_

      “What? I can’t just leave you here!” She exclaims, “You can barely stand!”

      “You must and you will. Go now!”

      She standing up before she knows what’s going on, an incredulous look on her face. She can’t believe she’s about to do this. But she’s backing up toward the house, watching Castiel’s expression, the determination in his eyes, the small bit of relief.

      Relief. That she’s listening to him. That she’s leaving.

      She turns and runs back into the cottage. Within five minutes, she’s packed and speeding away from it on her motorbike without a glance back. This time she is crying when her vision blurs under the visor of her helmet.

***

      She’s at a Motel 6 in Orange County when they find her. It’s 3 am and she’s been jumping from state to state for weeks. She’s had to stay there a bit longer than usual because she needs money and it’s her fifth night there.

      At first, it feels like any other night. She doesn’t get comfortable, she can’t afford to be. She knows the angels are looking for her. So she sleeps in her clothes, ready to leave at a moment’s notice.

      Except she doesn’t get a moment. There’s a rumbling, the sound of voices—whispers, but there are so many of them that it’s deafening. She manages to make out what they’re saying, just barely and it sends a shiver down her spine.

_Say yes._

      She scrambles to her feet, trying to get away from the noise and grab her duffel but the second her hand touches the doorknob the voices are gone. She barely has time to jump back, her hand moving to the angel blade she keeps on her belt as the door splinters open and a man in a crisp suit stands there with a smile on his face. She can see the glow behind his eyes, in his throat hiding behind his teeth. He’s an angel.

      “Claire Novak.” He says. Taking a step toward her. She steps back instinctively and bumps into someone that wasn’t there a moment ago. Her head snaps to the side to try to look, she lets out a shriek as her arms are grabbed. The angel blade is violently shook from her grasp and the man’s hand reaches out to grab her chin roughly, turning her face back to his. She glares defiantly against the glow behind his eyes, his insincere smile.

      “We’ve been looking for you. You and I... We're going to become _great_ friends. You can call me Barty.”


End file.
